CYEL
Winterfell felt different. She would be lying to herself otherwise.
Lady Cyel Sand remembered well the always-present happiness inside the dark walls of the most important castle of the North. Since she had left her father's lands at the age of four. Dorne was so different from Winterfell, and yet there had never been a day where Cyel had felt lonely.
The Stark children and their laughter had brought joy to her every day. They studied and learned their duties, and they played and ran together. The eyes of the Lady of Winterfell, of course, were always on them, strict yet loving.
Cyel had learned many things from Lady Catelyn Stark, which was so very different from Cyel's lady mother. Phelya Rosemberg had learned to be stubborn, always to try and see the best part of life and people, while Lady Stark had witnessed what being a good lady liked by her people.
And then there was Lord Eddard Stark, a man to whom Cyel owned so much; he had been so kind and so caring to both her and her mother. He had the power to make Cyel feel safe, only like her own father made her feel.
And she already missed that feeling…
Since the raven arrived to Winterfell announcing that the Lannister had killed the Lord of the North a part of her felt different. Knowing that she would have never witnessed the kindness of her lord and his wise words left an emptiness in her heart that hurt. And her sorrow only grew when she thought of what his lady wife and children might be feeling.
Robb, Lord Stark's heir and now King in the North, was at war against the Crown to avenge his father and free his youngest sisters, Sansa and Arya.
Cyel thought about them every day, and she prayed and cried. It felt like a lifetime had passed since they were all safe inside Winterfell, but it was like that no more. The girls were trapped in the South, with the House that had murdered their lord father; she really could not imagine how that all felt.
Her thought went to her best friend, too, the King's twin sister, Antea Stark, who had now joined her brother in the Riverlands with their mother. The both of them would not have come back any time sooner, for the moment.
She often thought about Theon Greyjoy, the always smiling boy, ward of the Starks as she was. And for this reason, she felt him as close as a brother. He was at war as well, and she was afraid to lose them all.
"How is Brandon feeling?" her mother asked.
And then there was Brandon Stark, the boy she felt more close to. The two of them had always got along, played, and studied together, but now even that had changed.
After Robb's coronation, Bran had become the Prince of Winterfell, along with his little brother Rickon, and since the King was at war in the South, Bran was now holding Winterfell.
"He is strong, but sure he suffers," Cyel said as she was brushing her long dark hair.
"Poor boys," Phelya said, and Cyel could see that her mother was trying all she could not to cry, but she was suffering as well. Phelya had spent many years in Winterfell in her youth. She loved Ned and his siblings so much, and now they were almost all gone: Brandon, Lyanna, and Ned. Only Benjen was still in this world, but it had been so long since he wrote to them.
"I'm so sorry, mother," Cyel said, turning to her mother. She was pale and tired; it had been happening since she came to know what had happened, and Cyel was worrying. Phelya had gotten sick one year before, she was finally gettig better, but then...
"I've always loved this castle," Phelya said with a sad smile, "Even more than my own. I see the same love in you and maybe even more."
Cyel stood up to walk to her mother and knelt before her.
"Mother?" she whispered.
"This world is a dangerous place. I prayed that you would never find out how cruel it could be, but I think I cannot shield you from it anymore." Phelya said, taking Cyel's hand, "You've got a place in here, a position, and for that, I have to thank only Ned. Do not take it for granted, my Sun; fight for yourself, like your father always told you."
Cyel felt like crying, it had happened before, the fever was back. Her mother was tired and shivering, and Cyel was not sure what she was talking about.
"Mother," she said, taking the woman's hands, trying to be as gentle as possible, "I think it is better for you to lay down and rest." In her mother's eyes, she could see tears, but the woman nodded, and she let Cyel help her to bed.
"I have to go to the Maester now," Cyel said as she covered her mother in furs, "You remember?"
"Yes, the wards are coming," Phelya answered, and Cyel nodded her head.
"I'll make sure Dorea is with you while I'm gone," Cyel said, caressing her mother's hair. The woman nodded.
"You are my Sun," she said, "Always remember to cherish that light in you, the light that I love so." Cyel was doing all she could to stop herself from crying, her mother didn't need that. So she decided to kiss her on the forehead instead.
"I love you, mother."
She went down the steps of Winterfell. Her mother was worring her, it had been so long since she had felt like that, but before she never lost her smile. Now it was different, now she felt so much pain, a pain that Cyel didn't know how to cure.
As she walked the corridors of the castle, she forced a smile on the servants, always so kind to her, as they were getting ready for the arrival of their new guests.
"Is the chamber arranged with enough furs?" Cyel asked as she saw Heren.
"Yes, my lady, as you've asked," she answered.
"Could you take a look again?" She asked with a small smile. "They come from the South; I'm afraid they will find the North whether rather unbearable."
"If it pleases, my lady," Heren said kindly before going towards Jon's former chamber.
Cyel had been given the duty of setting the castle for the arrivals. Decorations and the arrangement of the chamber. Even if that had been difficult to let the Stark boys agree on which chamber would have been given to the Freys.
"I've already told Maester Luwin you cannot give them Jon's chamber." Bran had protested as he pulled himself up from his lying position, thanks to a bar that was now fixed just above his bed. Mikken had done a fine work so that Bran could be a little more independent inside his chambers.
"Would you listen for just a moment?" She asked as she observed him shake his head. Summer jumped so that he could lay just next to the boy.
"He told me you would have me change my mind, but you won't. I won't change my mind." Bran said firmly.
"Do not be stubborn with me and listen," she said, sitting on the bed before he could start to climb onto the other bars so that he could reach the chair next to the window.
"Maester Luwin said I am the prince, and I don't want them in his chamber. This should end the discussion." He stated, but Cyel was used to his stubbornness.
"The discussion is open, and we are having it," she said, "You are going to host guests-"
"I know that Cyel!" he exclaimed.
"Very well," she answered back. "Then you know that we have to treat them with respect."
"How does respect involve Jon's chamber?"Bran argued with a frown.
"They are part of a noble house; we have to give them a proper chamber," Cyel exclaimed back.
"I don't want them there!" He fired.
"They need a chamber." She answered.
"You move into Jon's chamber then!" Cyel stopped observing Bran for a moment. His eyes always stubbornly hid the pain in them. Seeing him hiding those feelings made her heart ache.
"Bran, what is going on?" She asked softly this time.
"Nothing," he answered, looking away. There was a time when he would say everything to her with a laugh and a sweet smile.
"I know you," she muttered with sadness, and she noticed his body stiffen, "I know when there is something that you are keeping from me. And you don't have to tell me if you don't wish to. But…"
She took a breath.
"I don't want to fight with you," she admitted.
There was silence for a moment.
"I don't want to fight with you as well," he muttered, still not looking at her.
Bran took a breath.
"I do not want to replace him," at his words, Cyel leaned over to take his hand.
"My prince, is this what is troubling your mind?" He did not answer, but she held his fingers tightly, "We are not forgetting Jon, nor are we replacing him. But these boys will be your guests, and they need a proper place to lay." Bran bit his lips before turning to look at her with clouded eyes.
"It feels so different now," he said as his eyes stopped briefly on his legs.
"It is different," she said, searching for his gaze, finally finding it, "But I'm here, my prince. As well as all our memories. And we are not going anywhere."
Bran's lips turned up in a small smile.
As she kept walking into the corridors, the servants greeted her with a bow, and she greeted them with a little smile. Cyel touched the warm walls at her passage, remembering how, just a few months before, she used to run with all the Stark children. Laughing and hiding from the Maester, or the Septa. They didn't want for their words about their games to reach the ear of the lady Catelyn. But everyone knew that they all loved to play, run, and laugh.
How silent was that castle now. How sad it was to know that the kind lord Eddard Stark would have never walked through those gates, watching over his children, protecting all his people. How difficult was it to know that Robb was now King and at war? But now it was time to accept what had happened and try to move forward. She had to be strong for the friendship that she shared with the Starks, for the memory of Lord Eddard, for her mother, and for Bran's heart. She wanted to be strong for all of them.
I will not break, she told herself.
"Good day, Cyel," Maester Luwin's voice made her turn.
"Good day, Maester," she greeted the man. As he walked, the chain around his neck made a clear sound.
"The arrival of the two Frey boys is expected in a few hours," Cyel listened carefully, "I've seen your arrangements; may I say that you've watched and learned perfectly."
Cyel smiled, delighted to know that what she was doing was appreciated, "I've spoken with Bran this morning."
"He is already awake?" She asked curiously.
"Yes," the man answered with a smile, "He wanted to talk to me about something?" Cyel waited patiently for the Maester to keep talking. "He asked me quite an interesting question."
That made her smile, "I'm sure he did. Bran is very curious."
The man nodded, "Indeed, but this time was peculiar. The question was about you, my lady."
Cyel frowned, looking up at Maester Luwin, "About me?"
"Yes, Cyel," he said, "And the reason behind your staying in Winterfell."
She shouldn't have been surprised. Bran was smart and observant. And once his mind fixed on something, it would not let go.
"What did he ask?" She said, feeling like blushing.
"He was wondering why you hadn't been called back to Dorne after what happened to Lord Stark and the beginning of the war."
She had wondered about the same question as well. With the war, she had been afraid that her father would have wanted her back in Sunspear, and she dreaded that thought. She did not want to leave Bran alone. Not now.
But the raven never came.
"I've told him that it was a matter that we've had to discuss today," that made her frown.
"Today?" She asked.
He nodded, "A raven arrived from Lady Stark."
Cyel followed Maester Luwin through the corridors and up the stairs to the tower where his studio was at. She made every step with her heart beating louder and louder in her chest. Were they about to officially announce her and Bran's engagement? That made her nervous. How would Bran have taken the news? She did not want their friendship to change. She did not want to lose Bran.
As the Maester opened the door, Cyel noticed Bran sitting next to the window, looking at Winterfell below. Summer was sitting on his haunches at his feet. When he heard the sound made by the wood of the door, Bran turned.
"Good morrow, my prince," she said with a bow.
"Good morrow, Cyel," he answered with a certain nervousness in his thone.
He was dressed elegantely, a dark grey vest with the sigil of his house on the front. He was already dressed to welcome the Freys, as Cyel was wearing an orange dress with a tight corset adorned with golden embroidery shaped like snakes and soft sleeves and a gown that was easily moved by the wind. Her black hair was half tight up in braids, and the loose hair was adorned with pearls. They had to make an impression for the arrival of two new wards.
"Please sit, my lady," the Maester said, gesturing towards the chair next to Bran's. Summer got up, getting closer to Cyel. The werewolf looked at her with his deep golden eyes, nudging her clenched hands with his snout. His behaviour made her smile, then she reached out to caress the wolf's head. Her eyes, though, caught the Maester moving to change the position of the chair in which Bran was sitting so that he was now facing Luwin's desk.
Cyel and Bran shared a look as the Maester walked towards a little ironwood chest set on one of the shelves. The girl felt anxious as the man walked towards them. Bran seemed nervous as well, observing Luwin silently.
"You might be wondering why I need to share words with the both of you, today," none of them answered at the words of the Maester, "Yesterday a raven arrived from South," Cyel noticed Bran nervously looking down, Summer immediately got closer to him. "A raven from your lady mother, Bran."
That seemed to surprise the boy, who returned his gaze to the man with a frown and a worried expression. A different worry from before. He was surely worried about his brother.
"According to the lady Catelyn, the time has come for you to know the reason behind Cyel staying in Winterfell," the Maester opened the small ironwood chest to take out a rolled piece of paper. It opened it slowly before reading out loud, "With these words, the alliance between House Stark and House Martell will be consolidated through the marriage between Brandon of House Stark and Cyel of House Martell."
Cyel's heart was beating fast as she turned to look at Bran. The boy seemed to think about what had just been read to them.
"They want for us to be wed?" Bran asked, looking at the man.
"That had been agreed long before this day," he said, surprising Cyel as well. The Maester turned the document for them to see. The paper had gotten a yellowish color due to the many years, and at the bottom, those words had been signed both by lord Eddard Stark and her father, Prince Oberyn Martell. She could recognize his signature.
"Long before?" She asked, confused.
"The lord and the lady decided not to tell you because they wanted for you to get close on your own time," the Maester exclaimed, looking from Cyel to Bran, "They didn't want to impose anything on you."
"But now you are imposing me on Cyel," Bran's words hurt her, even if the venom was not meant for her.
"Bran, why would you say that?" She asked, turning to him. She could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at her.
"You think it too," he said, but she shook her head.
"No, that is not true," Cyel said with a firm tone.
"Cyel, look at me," he exclaimed, "Look at me..." his voice was full of pain. She hated to see him like that. Talking about himself like that.
Fighting the tears from falling from her eyes, she reached out for his hand, feeling relieved when he didn't pull away.
"Bran," he looked at her; he was doing everything in his power not to cry, "I'm looking. I'm always looking at you. There's no imposition here to me."
He observed her, "Why?"
Cyel smiled at him, letting a tear slip from her eye, hoping for him to believe her, "You are the person most dear to my heart. When I look at you, that's what I see."
She wished he could see himself through her eyes. There was nothing wrong with him. His legs did not define him. He had survived a terrible fall. And he was still here. Alive. He was so strong. That's what she saw.
Bran blushed, averting his eyes, "You are dear to me as well," he muttered. She smiled.
The Maester looked at the two of them with fondness as he waited for the two children to look back at him.
"As betrothed," the Maester began to talk after Bran and Cyel shared a smile, "There is nothing that you should be worried about. You are both still young. But from now on, my lady, you'll be known and presented as Prince Brandon's betrothed. The North will know you as such, as the two Frey boys," Cyel nodded her head silently as Summer liked her hand, making her look down with a smile.
"There's something else," the Maester's words got her attention again. The man looked inside the ironwood chest, taking out another piece of parchment. It was rolled and held together by a sigil.
"Isn't that your House sigil?" Asked Bran curiously. He was right. Cyel could see the sun pierced by a spear.
"This was brought with you the day you and your mother arrived at Winterfell, Cyel," the Master said, "Your father wanted for us to read this once the engagement was official," Cyel looked at Bran, confused.
The Maester broke the sigil, reading the words to himself first. Cyel leaned forward as she saw the expression on the man's face.
"What is it?" Asked Bran, as curious as she was.
Luwin cleared his voice before reading out loud, "With these words, I, Doran Martell, Head of House Martell and Prince of Dorne, give the legitimacy to the daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell, Cyel Sand. From this day forward, she will be known as Cyel Martell, princess of Dorne."
Cyel's breath got stuck in her throat.